


Half Day

by anomalously



Series: Mischief [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Tattoos, Young Love, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalously/pseuds/anomalously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt 1:</b> Yev witnessing a very fluffy scene between Ian and Mickey.<br/><b>Prompt 2:</b> Yevgeny decided to get his first tattoo without consulting his parents. he wanted it to be something cool that made him look badass, so he got some skulls on his arms. (It was winter so nobody noticed.) His gf thought it was cool tho</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda/sorta a day in the life type of thing, I guess. Also, I had to tweak the 2nd prompt a little bit, but not by much :) Also I used a little of my [obnoxious Yev](http://jellovich.tumblr.com/post/132492430203/teenage-yev-being-obnoxious-says-thats-some-van).
> 
> [My little hc/fc about Yev's little sister](http://jellovich.tumblr.com/post/133286656718/i-love-your-writing-and-i-love-your-teenage-yev) if you want to read it, just to know her backstory and what she looks like. 
> 
> Oh and for some reason I can't get the Gallagher house out of my head. I've tried. Not happening. So, they're _not_ living in the Gallagher house. But it's kind of set up like that. It's a lot set up like that lol

His alarm sounded like a foghorn. It was the only thing that could wake him up in the mornings, so he had to deal with it. Yev grunted, slamming his hand over his phone, trying to turn off the blaring sound without looking. 

After the alarm finally stopped, he took moment to collect himself. He wasn’t exactly a morning person right off the bat, and needed a good five minutes of blinking up at the ceiling to figure out what his next move was. Yev drags himself out of bed, stretches, looks around his room while he scratches his belly. The last thing he wants to do today is go to school, but it’s a half-day, so whatever. 

He’s so sluggish in the mornings. Padding to the bathroom, showering, brushing his teeth, doing what he needs to do. He throws some of his dad’s gel in his hair because it’s getting too long on top and will just flop everywhere if he goes without. He should probably have his mom cut it over the weekend.

“You took forever,” his little sister grumps at him when he opens the door to the bathroom. Her dark hair is a fucking mess, sheet marks pressed into the side of her face.

He pats her on the head, because she _hates_ it, earning a slap on the arm and frustrated grunt before she slams the bathroom door behind her.

Yev’s more awake now after his shower, smelling coffee and what he hopes is pancakes wafting from downstairs. Ian makes really fucking good pancakes, and his stomach is already rumbling for them. He heads back to his room, turning off his low music and rifling through his closet for something to wear. Right after he pulls on his jeans and a shirt, his phone beeps. 

It’s Gemma  _—are you going today?_

_Yeah_ he texts her back.

_Can you drive me and Amy?_

_Yeah._

Yev pockets his phone and grabs his boots from his closet, and a pair of socks from his dresser. He grins down at his painted purple toenails. Amy did it the last time he dropped in on girls night (they always had ice cream and Yev had a weakness). Mickey rolled his eyes at it, but Ian rolled his eyes at Mickey, because Mickey could be a little uptight sometimes.

Yev pulled his boots on and grabbed his backpack, heading down the stairs. When he got halfway to the bottom, he sighed and sat on the step under him, watching Mickey and Ian. They really fucking loved each other. Like, a lot. Yev thought maybe he’d be lucky enough to have something like that one day. Maybe —he wasn't exactly looking to rush into anything like that right now though. 

He was sixteen and never had an actual relationship. Which honestly wasn’t that big of a deal —plus he wasn’t totally clueless on that kind of thing. He’d made out… a lot… touched a couple of tits before —grabbed a dick or two, _whatever_. He wasn’t too concerned with _I like girls_ or _I like boys_ thing.

Maybe being raised in the family he was raised in let him be comfortable and open like that —his _orientation_ or _preference_ or whatever you wanted to call it, wasn’t even a big deal, was never a _thing_. It was just… the way it was. Yev isn’t really even sure if there was a discussion with his parents about it. 

Honestly, he was just mostly focused on hanging out with his friends and doing stupid shit like tagging or seeing how long he could skateboard in the mall before security would notice. And anyone he _talked to_ or _hung out_ with (like this one girl Harper) was really more casual than anything else. Nothing too serious right now, he wasn’t worried about it.

They didn’t see him on the stairs. Ian, his Dad, put all the pancakes in one big stack and set them on the table just as Mickey, his Pop, came over and handed him a cup of coffee. They looked at each other for a second, Ian taking a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on Mickey. Mickey grinned at him, arched a dark eyebrow in that way that took Yev fucking _years_ to figure out how to do.

The corner of Yev’s mouth tilted upwards when Ian took both his and Mickey’s coffee mugs and placed them on the counter, before framing Mickey’s face with his big hands. Yev remembers when he was little, pressing his little hand palm-to-palm against Ian's and thinking that their fingertips would probably never match up.

They pressed their foreheads together, Ian’s arms moving to wrap around Mickey’s shoulders. Yev couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, it was soft and made both of them smile a little; then Ian kissed Mickey. It was, Yev had to admit, sweet.

But before this escalated into something _everyone_ in the house would be traumatized by, Yev stood and made his way down the rest of the stairs, a shit-eating smile stretching over his face. He gasped dramatically and thumped a hand to his chest. Immediately, his dads looked over —Mickey tilting his head to the side and sighing, knowing what was about to happen.

“I… I thought you were _roommates,_ ” Yev shook his head, making his eyes go wide. “How long has this been going on? In my home —in my home where I sleep?”

Mickey snorted a laugh, “Eat your breakfast, you fucking menace.”

“I just feel so betrayed,” Yev shook his head, dropping his backpack next to the kitchen table. He piled a couple of pancakes on his plate and smothered them in syrup.

“Oh yeah?” Ian smirked, eyeing Yev.

Yev’s grin dropped, seeing Ian curl his hands around Mickey’s hips. Oh god, now they were just going to be gross.

“Gallagher,” Mickey laughed through his warning, trying to scoot away. But Ian pinned him against the edge of the counter. Mickey laughed again, wrapping his arms around Ian’s shoulders, accepting the peppered kisses all over his face.

“Ay, come on!” Yev called over, mouth full of pancakes. He swallowed his bite before continuing, “You’re almost forty, for god’s sake.”

“Fuck you, I’m thirty five,” Mickey raised a middle finger as Ian stepped back, copying Mickey’s rude gesture.

“Very mature,” Yev raised his own middle finger at his dads.

“Olivia!” Ian called up the stairs. “Hurry it up, pancakes are getting cold!”

Yev’s almost finished with his breakfast when Olivia comes stomping down the stairs, damp hair piled on top of her head. She shoots him an annoyed look and drops her backpack next to his, taking her seat.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Yev snorts a laugh.

“Oh screw you,” Olivia huffs. “Taking all the hot water.”

Yev rolls his eyes, handing her the syrup for her pancakes, “I did not take all the hot water. You’re so fucking dramatic.” (He probably totally did —but the hot water just felt so good and he was slow in the mornings, so _whatever_.)

“Half of my shower was cold!” Olivia snatched the syrup bottle out of his hand. “You always do that. Dick.”

“Then fucking get up earlier—”

“Alright, enough,” Ian calls over.

“Not doing this shit this morning,” Mickey adds. “Eat your breakfast and get the fuck outta here.”

“M’kay,” both Yev and Olivia sigh.

“You’re so sweet to the children,” Yev hears Ian laugh quietly as he wraps his arms around Mickey, his face burying into the crook of his neck. He doesn't hear what else Ian says, but he’s glad he doesn’t, because Mickey’s face goes a little red and he’s laughing, half-heartedly pushing Ian away.

“Ugh, they’re doing it again,” Yev tells Olivia.

She turns around to glance back at their dads, “Hey! Six inch rule!”

Ian pops his head up to look over at them, “Nine.”

“Ian _fucking_ Gallagher,” Mickey pinches Ian’s side. “What is _wrong_ with you -I swear to god.”

Olivia pulls a face, looking back at Yev, “Huh?”

Yev quickly shakes his head, reaching over to pat her on top of the head, “Oh young Padawan.”

Olivia bats Yev’s hand away from her, “Stop patting my head Yevgeny!”

“Yev, stop patronizing your sister,” Ian’s distracted voice calls over. 

By now, Yev’s dads are going about the kitchen doing their own things, getting shit ready for their day. Mickey’s talking to Ian about something (boring shit like bills, Yev isn’t really paying much attention) while he puts things back into the cabinets and looks for his car keys. Ian is loading dishes into the dishwasher. They move around each other kind of seamlessly, brushing hands down each other’s backs every once in a while. 

Yev knows his Pop used to be into some bad shit, stealing and dealing and scamming and beating the crap out of people, that sort of thing. You don’t grow up in South Side without knowing a least a little bit of the kind of shit the Milkovich name used to be associated with —Uncle Iggy and Colin are still in that life, a little bit. There’s a rumor that Pop was a pimp for a minute, but Yev’s never asked if it was true. It’s kind of funny though. Pop as a pimp.

But Mickey got out. Yev’s kind of proud of his Pop. Working at a garage, steady paycheck, health benefits -adult as _fuck_. He keeps his nose clean, but he hasn’t gone soft. It’s cool; Pop is still kind of a badass. He’s just a badass who knows how to cook, and fold laundry, and goes to parent-teacher meetings —and who refuses to share his secret weed stash that’s not so secret (back of his sock drawer in the Altoids tin).

Ian was never in deep like Pop was. Gallaghers stuck to small-time scams and pop-up parties. There’s this whole big chunk of his life that no one really talks about it. Yev knows it was when things were bad with his bipolar, so he doesn't ask too many questions (but he does know about the almost-trip to Florida; the hospital). It was during a time when Ian didn’t want to face it or take his medication, so he ended up doing some shit that didn’t make sense all the time. 

But he works on himself now. He takes his pills and stays on top of his shit. Yev’s proud of his Dad too. He’s grown up living with bipolar, but not living _with_ bipolar, so he can’t really say that he _knows_ how hard it is. Dad’s cool though, he’s badass and can do a hundred push-ups at a time. Between him and Pop, they’d probably be able to fuck someone up _real_ bad, if they wanted —if they were those kinds of guys. All that shit is behind them now though, and Yev knows it's been better because of that. 

“Can I go to Jordan’s after school?” Olivia asks, finishing up her pancakes.

“Jordan Costa or Jordan Wagner?” Ian stops loading the dishwasher, to look over at her.

Yev snorts a laugh into his glass of orange juice when Olivia freezes and doesn’t answer right away. Jordan Costa was this girl Olivia had been friends with for a few years. Nice girl. Jordan _Wagner_ however… he reminded Dad and Pop a little too much of a young Pop —and not in a cute, nostalgic way that made them chuckle and shake their heads, and say _oh that Jordan, what a scamp_. 

Dad was a little easier on the kid though —but he liked to give people the benefit of the doubt. Pop, not so much.

“I don’t like that kid,” Mickey said. “Or his brother. And I _sure_ as fuck don’t like how he puts his hands on you.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, “He doesn't put his hands on me, Pop. We’re not even going out! I’m fourteen—”

“Exactly,” Mickey folded his arms under his chest. “You don’t need to be over at a boy like that’s house, doing god-knows what.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Olivia frowned. 

"You know _exactly_ what it's supposed to mean," Mickey's brows shot up.

Olivia and Jordan weren’t going out, as far as Yev could tell. But they were _talking_ and _hanging out_. Yev didn’t really have too much of an opinion on the guy —he was _okay_. Kind of a shit-talker, kind of a trouble-maker, a little rough. He had a couple stick-and-poke tattoos and wore a silver chain. The kid was just very South Side.

And yeah, _sure_ , he had a rep for getting into fights now and then, and he smoked weed (dealt some too). He could have been _worse_ , Yev supposed. It was a little odd, seeing Olivia hang out with him though. Like, they didn’t always match up. It looked like one of those cheesy teen drama’s when they were standing next to each other. Bad boy has a soft spot for the good girl. 

Yev’s sister drew her brows together sharply, “Would this conversation still be happening if I was a boy?”

“Probably not,” Mickey replied with a shrug.

Yev winced when his sister’s shoulders fell. Pop didn’t play down the fact that there was a double standard; he didn’t bitch-out and pacify the situation. Everyone in the house knew that if it was _Yev_ asking to go to someone's house after school, that he'd been _hanging out_ with, there wouldn’t be any questions. 

“Mick,” Ian sighed, shaking his head. “Come on.”

Mickey raised his brows, “I don’t trust him, not with my fucking daughter.”

Olivia groaned dramatically, “You don’t know him! Dad, can I get a _little_ help here?”

“Olivia, Jordan is…” Ian sighed, running a hand over his hair. “We have the right to be concerned about how much time you’re spending with him… alone —in that house.”

“The guy’s a shithead,” Yev cut in. “But he’s _alright_. Pop, trust me, if he was out of line, I’d be on it. And you know it’s not fair that she has to go through all this shit every time they wanna hang out.”

Mickey scowled at him, “ _Yevgeny_.”

He put his hands up in surrender, “Just saying. The double-standard in this house smells like dog shit.”

“Thank you, Yev,” Olivia nodded.

“Yev says he’s alright. You don’t wanna give him the benefit of the doubt?” Ian asked Mickey. “Something _you_ weren’t given at that age?”

“Yeah, if that kid is anything like how _I_ was at that age, then no,” Mickey countered.

Yev watched the way Ian’s face softened, looking at Mickey. The way he reached out and touched his elbow. There was this little glint that Yev knew he’d never be able to fully understand, but whatever it said, Mickey knew. Pop dropped his arms and sighed.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Olivia piped up. “And I’ll have all my homework done —Jordan’s helping me with History.”

“What, the history of safe-cracking?” Mickey mumbled. 

Ian knocked the back of his hand against Mickey’s shoulder, “Stop,” he grinned. “Yev will pick you up at five, got it?”

Yev lifted his hands because what the fuck, how did he get roped into this shit? He’d been so quiet the whole time, minding his own business ( _whatever_ , for the most part). But Ian gave him a look, so he dropped his hands a forced a smile.

"Yeah, and you tell that fuckhead that you got family that has access to AK's, so he doesn't get any fucking ideas."

"Mick, you can't kill teenagers," Ian sighed, going back to what he was doing before.

 

* * *

 

Yev drives an old Camry. It’s gold, has a few dents and Pop always has to fix the AC, but it runs. Olivia hops up front and rolls her window down almost immediately because Yev lights up a cigarette and she hates it. He turns the radio on, tattooed fingers curling around the wheel, and pulls out of the driveway, headed for the Ball house.

“Why does Pop do that?” Olivia asked. “Why does he have to make it into a big deal?”

Yev rolls his eyes and exhales out of his window, “I dunno, I think he’s just gotten a _little_ attached to you over the years, and doesn’t wanna see you get hurt.”

Olivia huffs, putting her feet up on the dash, “Jordan’s not a bad guy.”

His phone buzzed and Yev suppressed a grin at the text message that came through, _The Shining tomorrow night at my place?_  

So here was the thing about Harper —the girl Yev had been talking to for the past few weeks. She was North Side, very cute, and had this killer smile. Yev liked her, but it wasn’t serious. Maybe in the future it could be, but for now they just hung out, watched movies… she was a really good kisser too, so… _Definitely_ , he texted back.

“Liv, dude’s got brass knuckles and a butterfly knife on his person at all times,” Yev snorted, covering up his pause in the conversation.

“You were _just_ in the kitchen saying he was alright.”

Yev nodded, “He _is_ alright. He is _also…_ regularly carrying a small arsenal of weaponry. You’re welcome for not telling Dad and Pop that little factoid, by the way.”

“S’not fair,” she muttered. “They don’t know him — _you_ don’t know him.”

“Mm,” Yev grunted in agreement, pulling up to the Ball house. “Strange how you’re hanging out with a guy who’s like Pop.”

“He is _not_ like Pop,” Olivia made his horrified gasping noise.

Yev snorted a laugh, texting Amy real quick _I’m outside_. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“He’s not. Again… you don’t know him.”

“What’s that thing about going after guys who remind you of your father?”

“You’re so gross, stop it!” Olivia hit his arm hard. “Jordan isn’t anything like him! I’m gonna tell your mom she needs to beat you more.”

Yev pulls on his cigarette, “Ma doesn’t beat me.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Olivia shoots back at him. “Mama’s boy.”

Before Yev can give Olivia any sort of indignant look (because _excuse you_ ), the back car doors opened and the Ball twins slid into the backseat. Amy, curled and pinned locs, looking like she was camera-ready; and Gemma, a little more relaxed, her thick hair pulled back into a ponytail. 

“You gotta quit that shit,” Gemma pulled a face, looking at Yev through the rear-view mirror. “You’re gonna be talking with one of those box things on your throat by the time you’re thirty.”

“Good morning to you too,” Yev sighed, flicking his cigarette out of the window.

 

* * *

 

“I’m bored,” Yev sighed, falling back on the hood of his car. Half days were nice, but shit after getting out so early, there was nothing to do. And Yev with nothing to do usually ended in him doing some dumb.

Gemma decided to go to the Alibi to do her homework and hang out with her dad (she’d missed almost a week because she got sick, so it piled up real fucking bad), so it was just Yev and Amy. The three of them grew up together since they were tiny, took baths together until they were like four, that whole thing. 

The twins were cool —they were Yev’s best friends, knew Yev better than anyone else; they were just another extension of his weird family. Like cousins.

So Yev and Amy dropped Gemma off at the bar before heading over to the park, their usual hang-out spot. They had stopped by the 7-11 and bought a couple big ass slurpee’s —Amy got cherry and coke mixed, Yev got orange creme. They sat on the hood of his car while listening to Amy’s music on her phone, giving themselves brain-freeze.

“We should go grab food from your dad’s,” Amy laid back on the hood next to him. “Sneak into a movie.”

“Eh,” Yev shrugged, turning his head so he could look at Amy. “Fucking Aubrey gets all Guantanamo whenever I go in the kitchen to get something. She’s always ratting me out.”

Amy rolled her big eyes and sighed, “I _think_ you’re using Guantanamo incorrectly, first of all—”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“—second of all, your dad’s the _manager_ , what’s her problem?”

“She thinks I’m taking advantage,” Yev snorted, sitting up to light a cigarette. “Dad’s tired of her coming to him about that shit, so he told me not to come in when she’s working. Old bat.”

Amy sat up with him, waving the smoke away from her face when the wind shifted, “You seriously need to stop that shit, it’s gross.”

Yev quirked an eyebrow at her and grinned, “Yeah but it makes me look really hot.”

Amy just shook her head, “You’re a freak.”

His eyes went wide, train of thought going a million miles an hour as he hopped off the hood of his car and dug in his pocket for his keys, “Let’s go see Uncle Carl.”

Amy reluctantly hopped off the car and followed his lead. “Yev, I don’t want to be a fucking accessory to whatever you’re thinking right now. I ran from the cops _once_ , I ain’t doing that shit again.”

Yev tilted his head at Amy while he opened his car door, “Amy… that was a mall security rent-a-cop.”

“Not the point, Milkovich!”

 

* * *

 

“Uncle Carl!” Yev sang out when he pushed the glass door open, Amy following behind him. 

The shop had deep red and black walls with a shit-ton of tattoo design posters pinned up. Yev vaguely recognized the ‘90s rock song playing in the background; he grinned at the smiling purple-haired girl at the front desk. It, evidently, was a slow day because there was only one client, as far as Yev could tell.

“Don’t you two have school?” Lex, the girl with the purple hair, asked.

“Half day,” Amy said, leaning her elbows on the front desk, “I like the purple.”

“Thanks,” Lex grinned. 

Yev settled up next to Amy and reached out to Lex to tug at a piece of her hair, “Yeah, it really brings out the sparkle in your bull-nose-ring.”

Lex swatted his hand away from her, “Ooo, Yevgeny Milkovich, just _wait_ til I see your mother next. It’s a _septum_ , and you know it, little shit.”

Yev smiled wide, “Is he busy?”

“He’s all freed up for the next few hours,” Lex answered. “Smoking out back, I think.”

“Cool,” he knocked his shoulder against Amy’s, looking over at her, “Wanna go watch me make bad decisions?”

“It is _literally_ all I ever do,” Amy sighed.

They made their way to the back of the shop, past the stations, heading straight for the backdoor. Uncle Carl had been working here for a while, and he as pretty fucking good too. Yev had a feeling that his dad’s knew Carl was the one who tattooed his knuckles, but they never said anything. They didn’t really care _too_ much about him being tattooed. 

Ma though… she was not into it. At all. There had been a huge argument about him getting the ink on his knuckles removed before she finally came around. Because when it came down to it, Svetlana was very much a _your body your decision_ kind of person. So even though she didn’t like it, ( _“Yevgeny, you have beautiful skin, I work hard for nine months to make that skin!”_ —all in Russian, of course) she was accepting it. Kind of.

He was sixteen, maybe too young to be making decisions about tattoos in some people’s eyes, but whatever. Pop got his knuckles done when he was younger than Yev, and his weren’t even done with a proper tattoo machine. 

(Plus, Yev got tattooed for free —who _wouldn’t_ jump on that?)

The backdoor was propped open with a brick. Yev pushed it open, holding the door for Amy to go through, because excuse you, he was a fucking gentleman like that sometimes.

“Ay guys,” Carl grinned from the plastic chair he was lounging back on. “No school?”

“Half day,” both Yev and Amy answered.

“Where’re your sisters?”

“Liv’s at a friends and Gemma’s catching up on homework,” Yev answered. “I got a couple hours, wanted to see if you were free to do some work… possibly?”

“Here we go again,” Amy muttered, shaking her head.

Carl pulled a half-smile, nodding. For a tattoo artist, he wasn’t terribly inked-up, but what he did have was fucking nice work. Mostly dotwork —mandalas encircling both elbows, owl on his upper arm and two tiny pink hearts behind his right ear for Aunt Debbie and Aunt Fiona. He also had _priorities_ inked on the inside of his right wrist —five years now without a drop of alcohol. There were a few more, but those were Yev’s favorite.

“What’d ya have in mind?” Carl asked, stubbing his cigarette out.

“You still got that thing you redrew for me a couple months ago?”

Carl stood from his chair, making his way inside —Amy and Yev followed. “Got it around here somewhere. You want that?”

“How long is it gonna take?” Amy asked.

“Pff,” Carl waved it off, “I can get that shit done in an hour.”

Yev grinned, “Fuck yeah. Ay Amy, when’re you gonna get something done?”

Amy rolled her eyes at him, “First, my parents would fucking murder me if I came home with a tattoo —then Mama would _absolutely_ murder you. And then Carl. Second, being stabbed over and over again with a needle is not my thing.”

Yev laughed, sitting down in the chair at Carl’s station, “Party pooper.”

Amy shook her head, “S’cuse me for wanting to stay alive.”

Carl laughed at that while he looked through a folder of drawings, “Kev _would_ fucking murder me though —ah, found it! M’gonna go make a stencil. You ready?”

Yev nodded, “Hell yeah.”

 

* * *

 

The Wagner house was… okay. There were a couple broken down bikes in the side yard and the chain link fence probably needed to be replaced, but it wasn’t terrible to look at. Truth was, Yev kind of felt bad for them… if anything that he’s heard was true, then it was just kind of a depressing house to live in. 

Single mom that was never around because she was either working or partying. A couple boyfriends came and went, bringing around drugs and shady friends. Honestly, Pop and Dad weren’t _wrong_ in being concerned about Olivia being there. 

Jordan and his older brother Kyle (a year older than Yev) were all but left to fend for themselves —angry boys, fighting and drinking and raising hell. Yev got into trouble too, but the Wagner boys were more on the side of “back in the day” (as Pop said) Milkovich trouble.

The front door was propped open, so Yev just walked in. He was about to call out, letting someone know he was there, when he heard his sister laughing. He peeked around the corner, across the living-room into a cluttered dining room, where Olivia and Jordan were sitting at the kitchen table.

Goddamnit. Yev had never really seen the kid look so relaxed and smile like that, but there it was all over his face as he looked at Olivia. He looked at her like she had the answers to all of life’s questions written in her eyes (Yev supposed this was _miles_ better than having Jordan look at his sister like she was his next meal). Fuck. Okay so this was for real. Jordan really liked her. A lot. 

Pop was gonna have a fucking coronary. 

Jordan pushed his mop of light hair out of his face and pointed to something in Olivia’s textbook, looking like he was quietly trying to explain something to her. She nodded and scribbled in her notebook.

Yev cleared his throat, loud enough to make Olivia jump and Joran whip his head up to look at him and frown. Back to that unreadable, slightly pissed off default setting, huh? Yev smirked, arms folding under his chest.

“Ready?” 

Olivia and Jordan shared a look while she gathered her things. Yev couldn't hear what she said, but whatever it was, Jordan nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards for a split second. 

“S’going on, Jordan?” Yev asked, trying to break the slight tension.

Jordan shrugged, “Nothing, man. S’going on with you —still tagging? Heard they tried to bust you a few weeks ago.”

Yev nodded, watching his sister get her backpack together, “Yeah, have to stay low for a bit. Holst ain’t got nothing better to do then run my ass up and down South Side for that shit.”

Jordan flashed a grin, “His parter’s a fucking prick too.”

“Ready,” Olivia sighed, cutting the conversation off. She looked at Jordan again and Yev could've sworn she blushed, “Call me later?”

Yev watched with a careful eye as Jordan tried to play it off with a shrug and a, “Might be busy, but I’ll try.” It took everything inside of Yev not to roll his eyes and snort. Then Olivia wrapped her arms around Jordan’s shoulders, giving him a quick hug. Jordan hugged her back with one arm; Yev had a feeling that if he wasn’t standing there, it would have been less of a friend-hug.

“Let’s go, Liv,” Yev sighed.

Olivia gave him a sharp look, “I’m coming. Bye Jordan.”

“See ya.”

Yev let his sister pass him to go out the front door, but he stayed behind. Olivia was a good girl, but she could take care of herself —Aunt Mandy made sure of that. 

He didn’t like to get into her business too much, was never the overprotective brother type. But as much as it looked like Jordan was genuine when he looked at her… she was still Yev’s little sister. He wasn’t overprotective, but he was protective when it counted.

“You need something?” Jordan asked. The kid had a heart and dagger stick-and-poke on the inside of one of his forearms, a thick W on the other. They were kind of shitty looking, but still cool… for a stick-and-poke job. Carl would hate them though, that’s for sure. 

Yev nodded, “Yeah, I do —I’m not gonna get in your business and shit, man, but Liv’s a good girl.”

Jordan sucked his teeth, “It’s not even like that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yev barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying… don’t make her cry, and keep her safe when she’s over here. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Jodan sighed, seeming to deflate a little. 

Yev nodded, “Good.”

“We done?” Jordan asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I got shit to do.”

“Yeah, just one more thing though.”

“Okay?”

Yev smirked, “Gonna be straight with you right now. You make my dads _real_ nervous, being around her, alone. I told them you’re an alright guy, but just as a little heads up, remember who’s daughter that is before you try anything.”

“Told you, it’s not like that,” Jordan pulled a face.

“Jesus, man, are you really gonna stand there and —I mean, I saw how you were looking at her. And that’s cool, I’m just saying—”

“I meant I wouldn’t…” Jordan sighed, scrubbing his fingers over his reddening face. “I wouldn't disrespect her like that, okay? I'm not like that, 'specially with her.”

Yev stopped short, actually finding himself pretty fucking impressed. For _fourteen_ , and for being who this kid was, Jordan seemed like a fucking decent guy. Damn. Okay. “A’ight, man. Just be good to her, okay? And keep her away from whatever you and your brother are doing —dealing, whatever the fuck it is. Don’t get her involved in that shit, please.”

Jordan nodded, “I’m not fucking stupid.”

The front door swung open, catching their attention. “Yev, what are you doing? Come on,” Olivia huffed.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Yev locked himself in the bathroom to clean his new tattoo. He tugged his shirt off (thank god for the cool weather and long sleeves, he really just didn't want to have the _I got a new tattoo after you asked me to please at least hold off till I was of age_ discussion again) and then carefully peeled the gauss bandaging from around his upper arm. 

A group of simple stylized skulls. They were kind of badass looking, and Yev liked badass things, so why the fuck not.

He carefully washed the area with the small bottle of Dial that was left in the medicine cabinet, patted it dry with a paper towel, and then took his phone out of his pocket. Yev smirked, angling his phone so he could take a picture of the new tattoo and send it to Harper. _Whatcha think?_ he texted her.

Almost immediately, he got a reply, _Love it! Can’t wait to see it in person!_ _:)_

Yev grinned, his face heating up. He put his shirt back on and walked out of the bathroom, ignoring the little flutter in his stomach because he’s going to Harper’s tomorrow and she’s probably going to let him kiss her through the entirety of _The Shining_ , and let him touch her hair. She’s got really soft hair —and soft lips, and soft skin… she’s just soft everywhere and Yev really likes that.

He can faintly hear Olivia in her room down the hall. He can hear her talking on her phone, laughing and making those noises girls make when they like someone. Those little giggles and gasps when Jordan probably says something funny. Yev wasn’t even aware the kid had a sense of humor.

His dads’ room is next to the bathroom, and the door is cracked, so Yev dips his head in to tell them goodnight. They’re sitting up against the headboard —Dad on his computer— and Yev catches just a split second of Pop leaning over and pressing his lips against Dad’s forehead while he murmurs something. Dad’s goes a little pink around the cheeks and Yev does his best not to make a gagging sound.

“Night,” Yev says; they return it. “Oh uh… I’m going to a friends tomorrow night, for a little bit. That okay?”

“Which friend?” Ian asks.

That makes Yev pause, “Uhm… Harper.”

Mickey pulls a face and looks over at Ian, “I don’t like Harper.”

Yev frowned, scratching the back of his neck, “You don’t... even know her.”

“I don’t like her either,” Ian sighs, closing his laptop. He raises his brows at Yev, like he’s expecting something. 

“I don’t want you going over to her house, doing god knows what,” Mickey shook his head. “You’re sixteen, you don’t need to be alone with girls.”

Yev’s shoulders fall, realizing what his dads were doing. He sighs, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Ian threw his hands up in surrender, “I believe the direct quote was that the double standard in his house smells like dog shit.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Wouldn’t wanna be unfair to your sister, would you?” Mickey asked him.

Kind of struck speechless that his dads just made him eat his own words, Yev was left opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He really needed to know when to keep his mouth shut sometimes, fuck!

“Can I… does this mean I can go, or…?” He hesitated. “Because Liv was allowed to go over to Jordan’s, and… like, I was _really_ looking forward—”

Both Pop and Dad laughed, “Yes Yev, just be home by ten, okay?” Ian said.

Yev sighed in relief, “Okay. Night, assholes.”

“Night,” They grinned at him.

He went back to his bedroom, turning his music on low because he couldn't sleep without it. It was kind of a small room, but Yev wouldn’t really know what to do with a bigger one. It was perfect for him. Tons of posters and dark curtains on his window, like a nice little cozy cave. He got in bed and checked his phone with a sigh.

A text from his Ma, _Love you Zhenya goodnight._ He smiled a little, texting her back before plugging his phone in and turning off his bedside lamp. 

Pretty good day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into a longer fic than I had anticipated lol. [**Yev's tattoo**](http://i.imgur.com/8llNeR9.png) because I know I did a shit job at describing it lmao
> 
> **Unneded information that you probably already put together on your own but I have weird needs to explain things because you never know if someone is like wtf why:** Yev grew up calling Mickey Papa and Svetlana Mama (Russian), and as he got older it just morphed into Pop and Ma. If anyone was like why the hell is Ian Dad and Mickey Pop. And Olivia started calling them Dad and Pop because that's what Yev calls them and even tho she lost her real parents, she does consider Mickey and Ian her parents _also_.


End file.
